Sisters and Cinnamon Rolls
by Aslan's Lamb
Summary: The Baker is having a rough year. Then the girl with the golden hair shows up. His sister. And the baker has no idea how to react. In fact, he wishes he could be happier...but too much has happened for simple happiness. This is move-based. I know that the original play would make render this sort of situation impossible. But I've seen the movie, so movie-verse it shall be.


She showed up one day while the baker was making cinnamon rolls.

He turned around and there she was, a young woman with golden hair peeking out from under her blue hood and a weary expression on her face.

"Hello," the baker said. "Have a seat there. Shall I get you something?"

The girl sat and bit her lip. "Do you know who I am?"

"You look familiar," the baker said honestly. "I think I may have seen your face during the prince's wedding a year ago." His hands did not stop working.

The girl nodded. "You probably did. But there is more."

She threw off her hood and a flood of yellow hair spilled out over her shoulders.

The baker staggered back. He had only seen hair like that once. When Graciella had brought a piece of hair back from the woods, insisting that it was the hair they needed to break the spell. The baker had not asked how she had gotten it. He was afraid to know. Then, it turned out that it belonged to the witch's daughter and they couldn't use it after all. Graciella had rolled the hair up as tightly as it would go and had put it away into a box in the attic.

Now he stared at her, shaking. He had thought the whole nightmare with the witch was over. Had she sent her daughter to **continue** terrorizing all of them? He thought of the three children dependent on him, all of them upstairs, merrily playing together.

"You're the girl from the tower."

She nodded, smiling.

The baker backed up against the wall. "Please, tell me what it is you want. I'll get it. I _promise_."

"What?" The girl stared, confused.

"Surely, you were sent by the witch?"

The girl shook her head. Her frown deepened. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"Well..." The baker forced himself to speak evenly. "We _did_ take a piece of your hair. But I am very sorry for that."

Rapunzel stared at him a moment, then hid her face in her hands and began to sob.

The baker walked over. He had spent much of last year comforting others. He had found Jack again and again, huddled and shaking in his bed, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Jack never made a sound because he did not want to wake anyone but the baker knew somehow that Jack needed him. He would come over and put his arm around him and say, "It wasn't your fault, Jack. You didn't kill your mother."

He had gone out to find Red each time she ran off in the middle of the night to sit by her grandmother's grave. Her mother had never been found. He would find Red howling, moaning out her grief to the night sky, not unlike the wolf that had once lived nearby. Then he would comfort her too.

Now, it felt almost natural to put his arm around Rapunzel. And rub her shoulder. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said. "I didn't mean to upset you. Tell me what'd the matter."

And Rapunzel looked up and said, "You know my name. But you don't know who I _am_. She never told you. I _hate_ her for not telling you."

"My _wife_?" The baker asked. "I wouldn't go on hating _her._ You see – "

"No! The witch!"

"Oh," the baker said. "Well, who are you then?"

"I'm your sister," Rapunzel whispered. "And I need your help."

The baker felt **dizzy** for a moment. That's right..._that _sister. The one taken by the witch. It made sense.

He felt suddenly very tired. Why did_ everyone_ seem to need his help?

"I can help," he said. "But we're not very rich, you see."

Rapunzel looked at him and smiled through her tears. "You and your wife?"

The baker swallowed. Suddenly, his own grief seemed to rise out of nowhere. It had only been a year. Not that long. "No," he said, blinking hard. "I have no wife. Just three motherless children and a motherless young girl who cooks and sews and cleans. I pay her fair wages but there isn't much left over."

Rapunzel stood suddenly. "I don't want _mone_y," she said. "Neither of us wants your money. But my husband needs to find a teaching job. I thought if you introduced him to the right people, as _your sister's husband,_ you know, he would be able to find something."

The baker felt himself grow almost limp with relief. _That_ was nothing. _That _was manageable. "I'll do that. Does he come from far away?'

"No," Rapunzel said. "He comes from here. But he must not be recognized by people, you see."

The baker felt a headache coming on. "Well," he said. "I'm not sure I want to know. Anyway, I have work to do here but you two can come in and rest and stay for dinner. I'll tell Cinderella. Don't let Red's manners put you off. She's a decent kid under all of that attitude."

"I'll help you," Rapunzel offered brightly. "I can bake. I have a positive talent for it. Must be a family-thing."

The baker smiled. She was a nice girl, this sister of his. She rather reminded him of Cinderella, with that same lost look in her eyes, but a nice girl. "I've never hugged you," he said warmly.

Rapunzel threw her arms around him, as if clinging to something solid while drowning. "We've had such an awful time," she said. "My husband's brother is rich but he didn't want to ask him for money on _principle. _And I could ask the witch for help but I didn't want to, _on principle_. So for a while, we had nothing_._"

The baker pulled back. How old was his sister and how old was this husband? They seemed awfully naive. "Suppose, I don't find him anything? Will he perhaps, ask this brother of his after all?"

Rapunzel was silent.

"You see," the baker said. "You're my sister, I ought to be honest with you. This family right_ here_? We're not poor because of principle. We're just _poor_. It's a bit different, when you have three children and no options."

Rapunzel stood and something closed in her face, leaving it blank. "I understand," she said. "Perhaps, we won't stay for dinner after all."

"No, wait," said the baker.

"Oh, I understand," Rapunzel said. "You're worried we might move in for good. We won't. In fact, if you don't need help in the bakery, you might as well tell me so. I only _thought _you did. And Raymond, well, he _wants_ to work. Both of us do. And I wanted to get to know your baby. But if you're going to be like that..."

The baker saw that she was about to leave. His own _sister_ leaving. "Wait! Please, understand that I...I didn't mean it that way. It's just been an awfully hard year for me too. And nobody to hide behind. Everyone depends on me." Suddenly, to his own shock, his own face twisted and he was weeping. "Graciella never depended on me the way these four people do," he choked out. "She was the stronger one. Only now she's gone. And I'm at my breaking point."

Rapunzel's eyes widened with understanding. She was silent for a moment. Then, she put her arms around him for the second time but it was different sort of hug now. She rubbed his back, comforting him. "Perfectly understood," she said. "_Now,_ can I help with these buns?"

And the baker said, "Absolutely."

He sat still for fifteen minutes, breathing deeply, gathering himself together. When he had returned to work, Rapunzel had already rolled the buns into the right shape. She had pulled back her hair into a large bun and had put on an apron.

She looked at him and smiled.


End file.
